


warped planks, been pacing endless

by R_Gunns



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Gunns/pseuds/R_Gunns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bucky is the son of a mob boss who keeps ruining Steve's property, Steve is a cop who's terrible at his job, and somehow they still keep on ending up in bed together. [abandoned, sorry]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt at Avengerskink for gangster!Bucky and cop!steve keep accidentally having sex. Kinda veered away from the prompt at some point.
> 
> Warnings for copious amounts of swearing, italics, run-on sentences and lack of research. Oops.

'You're disgusting.' Steve gestures at the guy from his spot on the mostly ruined sheets, mouth pulled down into a tight frown. The guy in question is the dirtbag son of a mob boss, more of a rabid dog than a man, all bared teeth and week old blood under his nails. An unlit cigarette hangs from his mouth where he sits on the can in Steve's en-suite bathroom, door wide open, clothes in a foul smelling heap on the floor beside him. He doesn't look up from the prescription tablets he's holding, just shows Steve his teeth and says,

'Ya didn't think that when you had your dick in my ass, princess.' And Steve kind of hates himself a little, flops back onto the wet spot on the bed and groans,

'I really fucking did actually.' Which only makes the guys smile widen, and he finally looks up from the tablets at Steve and he says,

'Can I have these?' even as he slides them into the pockets of his shorts, and: 'What's your name baby?'

'What's yours?' Steve shoots back, well aware that giving him his name is all but a death wish. The guy nods vaguely, runs a hand through his greasy hair, mumbles _touché princess_ , and lights his cigarette before Steve can say anything about touchy smoke detectors and fitted sprinklers. The alarm blares.

Steve vaguely notes as he watches him through the spray of water that the guys laugh is like the bark of gun, and his ass is really goddamn nice, even as he pulls on his sodden shorts and jumps out the window. Steve wipes the water from his forehead and grimaces at the ugly fucking shirt and bucket hat left on his bathroom floor, the kitchen knife peeking out from under his pillow that he definitely hadn’t noticed before. He really _really_ hates himself.

-

The second time it happens Steve just watches in abject horror as cold, day-old takeout falls from a spoon and onto his covers where the oil spreads, soaked up by his ( _white_ ) sheets. It’s two in the afternoon and they’ve already had sex twice and Steve has desperately tried to convince the guy to at least sit at his desk or on the floor if he’s gonna eat in his room, which only led to him scooting closer to Steve on the bed and knocking half a tin of noodles into Steve’s lap.

Steve stares mournfully at his only decent suit that lies crumpled on the floor, red blood smears pressed into it by dirty hands. Steve had made an attempt at protesting but had soon found his mouth too busy to say anything.

He leaves when dusk falls, Steve having managed to force him into the shower with promises of blow jobs, and returned to him the cleaned clothes he’d left behind last time, only for him to smirk, say,

‘Damn if I knew what a good house wife you’d be, I’d have fucked you sooner, gorgeous.’ Steve rolls his eyes at that, but pauses in his remark when the guy says,

‘Call me Bucky,’ and heads for the window.

Later, he notices flaky blood stains that have transferred from the guy- _Bucky’s_ hands to Steve’s hips (and _white_ sheets) and seriously contemplates stabbing himself in the eye with the screw driver he finds under his pillow.

- 

By the eighth or ninth time Steve wakes up to Bucky pocketing shit from his medicine cabinet he just sighs and tells him the Xanax is on the bottom shelf and please don’t light up because any more water damage on his walls is going to cost him his deposit. He pulls his sheets- dark purple by now, his dry cleaning bill is getting out of hand- off the bed to throw in the laundry chute, and goes to make them some breakfast, taking the butter knives he finds in his pillow case with him. 

 -

On Steve’s birthday, months after he’s stopped counting how many times it’s happened, Bucky actually comes in through his front door for once. He has a lock pick clenched between his teeth, too-expensive whisky under one arm and a bottle of lube under the other. Steve blinks at him for a second, nonplussed.

‘You do realise you have a key.’ Bucky ignores that, lets the lock pick fall out of his mouth and sidles up to Steve, intent in a way that makes him think idly of a nature show he saw at some point, says,

‘It’s your birthday. We’re gonna drink all of this whisky and I’m gonna let you fuck my face till I cry- and don’t pretend you don’t want it princess, I’ve seen the porn you watch.’ It’s probably irresponsible of him not to wonder how he knows its Steve’s birthday, how in the hell he knows what _porn_ Steve watches, but then Bucky’s sucking at his neck and, well. 

A day later, right after Steve had threatened to burn the neon green Tommy Bahama shirt Bucky was wearing and just before he hops out the window, Bucky leans in and pecks Steve on the lips. When Steve makes a sound of surprise in the back of his throat Bucky tenses, eyes wide in panic, and says to Steve,

‘Fuck, I didn’t mean to do that,’ and scrambles for the fire escape. Steve doesn’t see him for half a year.

-

 Steve spends the next six months enjoying the clean sheets and lack of sharp objects in his bed, resolutely ignoring how much he misses having Bucky around, even if he was basically the human equivalent of a stray cat that refused to be house-trained. He works, he goes out with Nat and Sam, he runs, he fails miserably at growing a herb garden- he definitely does not think about how he accidentally started dating the son of a mafia boss without realising. He also doesn’t think about the fact that SHIELD’s informants are getting twitchy, talking about hearing whispers of major upheavals in chain of command, of something big happening in the inner circle and what that could mean for Bucky.

Against all better judgement, Steve still leaves his bedroom window unlocked. Which is why he wakes up one night to Bucky hovering over him, covered head to toe in blood. Steve squashes his initial reaction of reaching for his gun and instead grabs Bucky, cataloguing his injuries; two broken ribs and possibly more cracked; his nose has been broken and reset slightly crooked -not a new injury though; his right foot looks like it’s broken, and he’s littered with bruises and cuts all over his body, some older than others but all within the past month. His left arm is stiff, unyielding. Steve’s fingers flutter lightly above Bucky’s chest and he murmurs,

‘What happened Buck?’ And Bucky bares his blood stained teeth, says,

‘Me and daddy had a disagreement,’ then promptly passes the fuck out. Steve breathes for a few seconds, lets his heart rate slow down to a normal level.

Then he calls Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for lots of swearing. Also I don't know anything about mafia and didn't research anything. /terrible person.

‘So let me get this straight.’

Steve really wants not to have this conversation right now.

‘Sam I really don’t-’

‘C’mon Steve, let me enjoy this. How often do you fuck up? How often do you fuck up _this_ badly dude, I need to savour it, give me a second. So. The poor son of a bitch I just patched up is Alexander Pierce’s kid, name unknown, face –up until now- unknown. He’s not an informant, but he knows you, well enough at least to come to you when he’s hurt. So you’re what, buddies?’

Steve really doesn't want to answer that, isn't even sure that he knows how. It's not like he and Bucky ever talked about what they were to each other. So he shrugs, says 'Sure.’ There's a thump of a door slamming behind him.

'You and I got very different definitions of the word buddy, pal.’ Bucky calls from down the hall, and Steve turns to see him limping his way towards them, significantly more naked than he was five minutes ago. Sam slaps a hand over his eyes and groans,

'The fuck is he naked for?'

‘Sorry, he does that,’ Steve says even as he moves under Bucky’s arm to help him to the couch, where he pulls a throw round his shoulders. ‘You shouldn’t be up, idiot, you’re gonna ruin all Sam’s work.’

‘Christ Steve, I’ve had worse,’ Bucky says.

‘You lost your fucking _arm_!’ Steve snaps, which earns him an incredulous look from Bucky.

‘Yeah, I kinda got that princess. Pretty hard to forget, what with the huge-ass metal one fused to my fucking shoulder.’ He says it slowly, like Steve’s a child, like he doesn’t understand (and he doesn’t, really), and Steve lets out a breath, wills himself calm.

‘Sorry.’ He mumbles, but Bucky just grabs the back of his neck and shakes him a little, bares his teeth in a smile just shy of fond (and thankfully free from blood), only for it to freeze when behind them Sam says,

‘Oh, is _that_ how it is?’ He sounds vaguely disapproving and Bucky stills, tense like a dog itching for a fight. His grip is heavy on the back of Steve’s neck (Steve rolls his eyes at that) and his voice is dangerously calm when he says,

‘Yeah. That’s how it is. You got a fuckin’ problem with that?’ But Sam doesn't rise to the bait, just shakes his head, lifts his hands placatingly,

‘Nah dude, chill, the gay part ain’t really the issue here. It’s the ‘Steve’s fucking a criminal’ bit I’m worried about.’ Against his will Steve feels himself blush, but Bucky settles a little, dropping his hand from Steve’s neck to rest on his shoulder.

‘Yeah, okay. Y'know, me and Stevie over here have been fuckin’ for a good year,’ Bucky says, tilts his head back and grins at the ceiling, ‘And none of you idiots who call yourselves law enforcement knew a goddamn thing. For _shame_.’ Steve whips his head around fast enough that he hears it crack.

‘You know I’m a cop?’ He asks at the same time Sam says,

‘A _year_? I gotta tell Nat about this man, what the fuck. Fury gets wind you’ve shacked up with this guy you’ll be lucky if he doesn't kill you himself,’ but Bucky ignores him in favour of turning to Steve and resting a palm on the side of his face.

‘Steve. Don’t be an idiot. Use your brain, I know you got one in that pretty head of yours,’ he says, then turns to Sam, ‘Hey, Sam was it? I’m an informant. Steve ain’t done shit, okay, I'd been giving him intel for a year when I got caught.' Steve opens his mouth to argue at the same time Sam says,

'Yeah and I'm Idris Elba, pull the other one dude.' But Bucky just levels him with a sardonic look.

'Naw, listen, me and my pa ain't agreed on much since before i knew my dick did something other than pissing. It was only a matter of time before something happened, it was just shit luck that this was the thing that did it, I guess.' He eyes Steve for a second, like he's thinking about how to word what he says next, but in the end just sighs and says,

'Fuck it. Now listen Stevie, you gotta remember this ain't your fault okay? I know you're gonna think so anyway but- _fuck_ , okay. I guess my pa had someone tail me, and they saw me here with you. Did some digging and found out you were a cop. So word gets out that I'm fucking a dude who is also a fucking _cop_ , which ol' pops ain't best pleased about.' He gestures vaguely at his body, mumbles, 'And you know the rest.'

**Author's Note:**

> As per usual, I try to avoid Briticisms but sometimes miss 'em. Tell me if you see any. Come say hi on [Tumblr!](http://gunsintheground.tumblr.com)


End file.
